The paradox of self sacrifice
by flying cat
Summary: HouseCuddy. Takes place following the demise of Vogler. My first effort. Perhaps mildly amusing, possibly smutty. Finally edited, all errors corrected.


Okay, finally corrected the myriad of spelling and grammatical errors in this, I've also de-arsed it. Thankyou to those who pointed that out, also big thanks to everyone who offered feedback. I haven't added anything, only repaired it.

Set immediately following the episode in which Vogler is voted out.

Obligatory disclaimer: I don't own the characters. If I did I'd be significantly wealthier than I currently am.

Cuddy slammed the cup down onto House's desk. She could always be depended upon to come in and inject a harsh dose of reality into any mildly joyous situation, bursting all of his balloons at once. Yes, she had more than played her part in engineering the removal of Vogler; but her primary concern was the hospital, and she wasn't entirely convinced that her actions were in the hospitals best interests in a financial sense. On a very base level, she knew she had done the right thing, however losing Vogler's money smarted. That was a loss they would find hard to accommodate, particularly given that a significant portion of the hospital budget would now need to be re-written in light of Vogler's departure. Cuddy shattered his celebrations because she needed him to realise what it meant in real terms. Sure, she knew he would always be governed by self-interest, but she knew her little outburst would serve as a dose of reality to him.

Cuddy glared at him, eyes piercing the back of his skull, House tried desperately not to fidget under her gaze, eyes dropping to stare aimlessly at the empty cup in front of him, his bottom lip protruding moodily, thoughtfully. He knew what she meant and the party was over for him too. Sure Cuddy was a pain in the ass, but she did have a nice ass. In spite of everything did her job well, hell she let him get away with pretty much anything. Tolerated his behaviour, and in some sort of bizarre cost-benefit analysis, his ability outweighed his status as a massive liability.

Cuddy had left the room, House was still staring. Wilson, Chase and Foreman watched him, somewhat bemused.

"Hey," Wilson snapped his fingers in front of House's cool glassy eyes. House sat up with a start. The three men regarded him with a mixture of confusion and intrigue following his unusually subdued response to Cuddy's outburst. Chase was the first to lose interest in his boss and poured himself another cup of champagne. Wilson regarded his friend, noticing the hint of regret in House's eyes, patted him on the back, bade the three diagnosticians farewell for the evening and left to move back into his office.

Foreman continued to study House, intrigued as to what he would do next. If he were any sort of man, Foreman rationalised, he would go and apologise to Cuddy, however in Foreman's eyes, House wasn't really a man, he was something else entirely. House finally shifted his gaze from the empty cup; raising an eyebrow in Foreman's direction he slid a hand into his pocket, feeling for the familiar form of his pill bottle. He continued to stare at Foreman as he extricated the bottle from his pocket, removed the lid, tapped a single Vicodin from the bottle, replaced the lid and dry swallowed the little white tablet. He smiled at Foreman and stood slowly, leaning heavily on his desk. He grabbed the champagne from underneath Chase's nose and took a long swig directly from the bottle before slamming it down emphatically in the middle of the table, causing the two men sitting across from him to jump, the drink foamed angrily in response.

"Shit," Chase had spilt his drink on his pants and was furiously trying to flick the liquid off the expensive wool-blend that encased his thighs.

"See ya." House grinned at the pair of them wildly, grabbed his cane and slowly limped from the room.

"What's his problem?" Chase asked Foreman, still consumed with attempting to somehow camouflage the growing wet patch near his crotch.

"Cuddy." Foreman replied, shaking his head and frowning at Chase, who continued to fuss with his pants.

"I look like I've pissed myself."

House slowly and laboriously made his way down the corridor to Cuddy's office. Generally words were something that came to him in abundance, but he was somewhat stuck when it came to what he was going to say to Cuddy when he finally reached her office. He secretly hoped that she'd gone home already, save him the trouble of speaking to her, but he knew better. She'd still be behind her desk, sifting through the mountain of paperwork created by Vogler's departure in an attempt to get a head start. She was right, he was a jerk, but he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to give her the satisfaction of knowing he shared her opinion of himself. Sorry was a good start, he could apologise, but he wasn't entirely sure that it was necessary; he just needed her to know that he understood. He reached Cuddy's door, quietly pushing through before dropping down into the chair across from her. He didn't speak; he'd hardly said a word following her outburst, too consumed with his own thoughts to bother with verbal communication. So he sat; leaning forward on his chair chin propped on his cane, staring at the near edge of her desk. Completely silent, entirely uncharacteristic. So consumed with his own thoughts, he didn't notice the bottle of scotch on Cuddy's desk, he just stared. He had no idea how long he remained that way; mute, numb, for a reason he couldn't place. He didn't notice that Cuddy had stood and circled her desk to stand in front of him until she spoke.

"Party over?" He sat up, eyes focusing. He rubbed his forehead, blinking at her trying to clear his head enough to avoid leaving in disgrace.

"Yeah, Chase spilt his drink, had to call his Mommy to bring in a dry pair of pants." Cuddy stood, arms folded across her chest only serving to accentuate her low-cut top. House found himself staring at something other than an inanimate object. Cuddy frowned at him, still less than impressed.

"So what exactly do you want from me now?" Cuddy asked patiently. House felt like a schoolboy again.

"I ah…" House began pausing in contemplation. "Look, I…" Cuddy watched him, normally so verbose and sarcastic stumbling over his words and enjoyed every second of it.

"Have you come in here to gloat?" Lubricated with scotch, something inside her snapped; patience was gone. She had seen more than enough of Gregory House for one evening. She could leave him to mumble into his cane all night waiting for an apology that would never come, or she could get rid of him have another drink and finish her work in relative peace and quiet. The champagne had whet her appetite; the scotch was waiting. "Do you want me to tell you that you are worth $100 000 000? Let me save you the trouble, you're not. I didn't do this for you. Don't flatter yourself."

"Actually I came in here to apologise." House stood up, extending to his full height to tower over her. "But if you want a fight, I'm up for that. You killed my party."

"You didn't consider what you were celebrating." Cuddy replied standing up, stepping away from her desk to eyeball him.

"Oooo I love it when you get angry." House snarled back at her. "You can dress this up however you want, you did it for me. You couldn't stand the thought of coming in here and not seeing my smiling face every morning in the clinic, could you? Me, Vogler, no contest. He never puts out. He is black though, I didn't know that was your thing…"

"You…!" Cuddy was lost for words. He couldn't possibly be more infuriating. "You selfish, arrogant bastard. I should have broken that bottle over your head when I had the chance."

"Really?" House continued. "It's still in my office, shall I go and get it?" He closed the distance between them menacingly, daring her to accept his invitation. "Better yet, you could spank me with my cane." He ran the tip of the walking aid in question up the inside of her calf; she shuddered involuntarily as the cold wood touched her leg. "You know how politically incorrect that would be? Dean of medicine beats crippled doctor with his own cane."

"Don't tempt me." Cuddy warned. House ran the cane back down her calf and planted it firmly between her feet with a solid thud. She didn't flinch. He shifted closer to her, mere inches separating them. "Remind me why I chose you over all of that money?"

"Because you're hot for my incredibly impressive body?" House suggested, using it to push her back against her desk. Cuddy's hands instinctively dropped to grasp the edge as he invaded her personal space. The champagne she had so impressively downed earlier in combination with the scotch had fogged her mind. Normally she'd give him a sharp shove or thump his chest with her fists and he'd retreat laughing. Tonight she wanted to belt him over the head with a smooth dull object, simply to see if it left a mark. She grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket, without being entirely sure why, but she rationalised that it was to stop her from falling over.

"You're kidding, right?" Cuddy laughed at him. "I'm your doctor remember? I've seen you naked." Hurt momentarily flashed across his face.

"Yes, but you haven't seen little Greg when he's all grown up." Quickly composed House taunted, leaning toward her. Cuddy hung limply from his jacket. "That champagne's gone straight to your head Cuddy."

Cuddy caught herself giggling at him and stopped immediately, but didn't let go of his jacket. House slipped an arm around her, hoisting her back to her feet bodily. Suddenly she found herself pressed against him and hated herself through her alcoholic haze for enjoying the sensation. Still holding Cuddy upright, House looked down at her lost in her own thoughts, and wondered what was dancing through her mind and puzzled over it, pulling faces at her. When he realised he was supporting most of her weight, his grip on his cane subsequently tightened. She leant back from him enough to lock eyes with him but not enough to break body contact, which she was enjoying far too much.

"What are we doing?"

"Given my current degree of mobility, I'd say this is as good as dancing," House offered, watching her carefully. He'd seen Cuddy after a few drinks at the odd xmas party where she was a picture of restraint. This was equally both amusing and fascinating at the same time.

"No." Cuddy leant on the word, releasing the handfuls of his jacket that she had commandeered earlier, smoothing his lapels back down against his chest. "You came in here, and I was angry…"

"So you're not angry any more?" House patiently attempted to lead her through whatever it was she was trying to say purely for his own amusement. She was definitely going to regret this in the morning.

"No," Cuddy paused in fuzzy contemplation. "I'm really angry with you, because you're a prick."

"Good to see you're still thinking clearly." House tried not to laugh at the Dean of Medicine.

"You came in to pick a fight."

"I came in to apologise," House corrected. "You picked a fight, I was just giving you what you wanted."

"Really?" Cuddy looked at him incredulously, swaying slightly. "You know what I want, House?"

"Another drink?" House stifled a giggle.

"No…"

"Do you know what you want?"

"No… Dammit! House." Cuddy thumped his chest in tipsy frustration,

"Come on then." House pressed her. "What do you want?" Cuddy fell into House's chest, banging her forehead against him repeatedly. House looked to the ceiling in desperation. He shifted the arm he had been supporting her with and patted her on the back. He'd been propping her up too long, and his frustration with the somewhat intoxicated administrator was beginning to pool in his leg. He attempted to shift his weight to alleviate the pain; Cuddy grabbed him in an attempt to hold him still.

"Oh no." Cuddy looked up, reality striking her like a lightening bolt to the back of the cranium. "Your leg."

"You want my leg?" House asked. "Well, yours might be a little small for me, but you're welcome to it. Actually perhaps we could swap and I could just touch myself or something." Cuddy groaned in drunk exasperation and pushed him backward onto the chair. He gladly released her and plonked himself down, stretching his leg as he sat. "Ahhh." House winced as he attempted to get some movement back into his essentially immobile limb. Cuddy turned away from him and poured a glass of scotch, handing it to him. He gladly accepted it, downing the dram in one hit before handing the empty glass back to her. Cuddy refilled the glass and duly replicated Houses actions. A faint smile spread across his face. "You know, drinking isn't going to solve anything." He offered the advice in an intentionally condescending, mocking tone.

"Oh, that's rich coming from you." Cuddy sneered at him.

"So what do you want?" House returned to their pre-drink conversation. "Other than not to remember this in the morning." Cuddy stared at him blankly, it seemed she'd forgotten already. "Don't worry about it." House put her out of her misery.

"What do I want?" Cuddy pondered the sentence aloud. "Maybe a week or two off, I could go somewhere sunny…" She mused. "Another infinitely generous benefactor to appear out of thin air and gift the hospital $100 000 000…"

"$100 000 000?" House repeated the sum, little finger crooked in the corner of his mouth offering a none-too-subtle Dr Evil impersonation.

"And something to belt you over the head with, Doctor Evil." Cuddy snapped at him. House reclined in the chair laughing.

"What? No world peace? No cure for cancer?" House mocked her.

"We could have had a go at cancer with Vogler's money." Cuddy replied flatly.

"We also could have put a spa in my office and hired topless secretaries for the entire hospital." House pointed out. "See, everyone misses out." Cuddy grabbed a file from her desk and swatted him across the head with it. "Hey!" House flung his arms around his head attempting to fend off her blows. "If you're going to be nasty, you could at least drink." She hit him again, laughing now.

"You're such a dick." Cuddy giggled, file falling from her hand onto the floor. House watched the papers spill at her feet. She was thoroughly ripped, which was probably to be expected, such a small, slight woman, she probably hadn't eaten anything since lunch and ultimately so tightly wound that it was really only a matter of time until she slowly came apart at the seams. House sat watching thoughtfully, the whole situation was somewhat akin to a car crash, slightly tragic but hard not to watch. He fiddled with the pill bottle in his pocket.

"Can I have one of those?" Cuddy asked, overhearing the rattle.

"No." House looked at her quizzically. "They're mine."

"Oh come on." Cuddy whined. "We both know you're hooked, I keep writing you prescriptions, what's a painkiller or two between friends?"

"How much have you had to drink?" House watched Cuddy carefully.

"I've had whatever you haven't" She waved her hand at the bottle of scotch. "And that cheap champagne you lot were drinking before."

"Okay." House paused for effect. She'd drunk a quarter of a bottle of scotch. "So you've put a dent in the scotch, and you want me to give you Vicodin?"

"The man's a genius!" Cuddy hollered at the ceiling. "See, this is why I kept you."

"You really want to fuck yourself up tonight, don't you?" Any enjoyment House had been deriving from Cuddy's current predicament was fading. The stress of the last few weeks had gotten to her and she had responded in the most adult way possible, getting drunk. House made a decision. "Get your coat I'm taking you home."

"I thought this is what you came in here to see." Cuddy snarled at him, swaying. "Lisa Cuddy, drunk and disorderly."

"Yeah." House humoured her as he stood up and walked around her desk collecting her things. "This is easily the highlight of my year." House slung Cuddy's purse over his arm, threw her coat over her shoulder, then took her by the arm and led her out of the office. Cuddy grabbed the scotch as they left. He left her briefly outside his office as he collected his things, then escorted her to his car, opening her door, bundling her inside and fastening her seatbelt. House sunk down into the driver's seat of the Corvette in a quandary, seeing Cuddy this ripped was hilarious and appealing on so many levels, yet simultaneously utterly tragic. She was a mess; he couldn't help feeling mildly responsible for the state she was in. So he drove her home out of a sense of duty, a result of the compassion he refused to admit he had for this woman. Sitting at a set of traffic lights on the way to Cuddy's place she took a swig of scotch, spilling it down the front of her shirt and jacket. Cringing at the thought of scotch on his leather seats, House grabbed the bottle off her.

"Hey!" Cuddy protested, "You're driving. You can't drink." House dropped the bottle out the window. Cuddy watched him wide-eyed and angry as glass shattered on asphalt.

"You've had enough." House mumbled as he sped away from the intersection.

"Damn you, bastard." Cuddy sulked; arms folded tightly across her chest for the rest of the journey, eyes glaring murderously ahead. House smiled and turned on the radio. By the time he pulled into Cuddy's driveway, she was dozing in the seat next to him. He retrieved her handbag from the back seat of the car, hunting through it for her keys. Keys found, he grabbed her bag, coat and his own things and got out of the car, headed for Cuddy's front door. He fumbled through her keys, why did women have so many keys? Eventually finding the correct one and letting himself inside, wandering through to her living room, and dumping everything onto the coffee table in the middle of the room. He steeled himself, took a deep breath, and went back outside to retrieve Cuddy. House opened the car door and gently squeezed Cuddy's shoulder.

"Cuddy?" He attempted to shake her awake. She stirred.

"Go away House." She slurred.

"Come on, get up." House slid an arm behind her back, leaning heavily on his cane. This wasn't working, he leant his cane against the car, and bracing himself against the dashboard he bent down and lifted both of her feet out of the car. He put his arm around her again and hauled her to her feet, thankful that she was so small. Cuddy's legs weren't working, her arms were, and she hung them loosely around his neck. House cursed his leg, and reminded himself that a real man would carry her inside. He considered the logistics of it, he bent over slightly at the waist, Cuddy fell over his shoulder, arms and upper torso hanging over his back. House stood slowly, Cuddy draped over his left shoulder. He wrapped his left arm around her waist, grabbed his cane, pushing the car door shut then limped slowly inside, careful not to drop Cuddy or fall over in the process. Next to his ear, Cuddy stirred, giggling to herself. If she was putting this on, he was going to kill her, but he did have one hand quite firmly gripping her backside to stop her falling from his shoulder, minor compensation for his efforts. Once inside he carried her slowly to the couch in her living room then gently lowered her down onto it. He stepped back, pausing momentarily to regard the silent figure of Cuddy slumped on the couch, then leant down to re-arrange her into a more comfortable position. He removed her shoes, shifted her legs onto the couch, grabbed a cushion to slide under her head and spread her coat over her. He stood back and regarded his efforts. Pleased with himself, he limped into Cuddy's kitchen in search of food and coffee; he wasn't going to leave her just yet.

House swung open Cuddy's fridge door, cursing women and their weight consciousness as he stared at vegetables and other sensible, unappealing foodstuffs. Surely she had to have some chocolate or something stashed somewhere, after all, isn't that whole comfort eating thing central to being female? House checked the freezer for anything remotely appealing hoping for ice cream, or maybe a frozen pizza. Nothing. Damn Cuddy and her low-fat fridge. House rationalised that Cuddy obviously never entertained, or if she did, she didn't bother feeding her guests. He searched her pantry for chips or crackers or something, hell he had reached the point where low-fat was beginning to sound moderately appealing. He abandoned the pantry, grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter and set about making himself a cup of coffee. He was in for a long night.

Coffee cup in hand and the apple in the pocket of his jacket he limped back into the lounge and grabbed a magazine of Cuddy's coffee table, one of those great women's mags that covered all of the usual subjects, hair, fashion, gossip, men and sex. House put his coffee on top of another magazine, not wanting to mark the wood, removed the apple from his pocket took a bite and began to read. Somewhere between tips on eyebrow shaping and discovering what he really wanted in bed, Cuddy began to stir.

"Oh shit." Cuddy slowly sat up, looking over at House. "You drove me home?"

"Yep." House didn't look up from his magazine; he'd forgotten how entertaining women's magazines were. "You were about to disgrace yourself, I figured that was something you'd prefer to do at home."

"Thanks." Cuddy looked at him quizzically. "Are you reading Cosmo?"

"Yep." House replied. "Women discuss their most mind-shattering orgasms. I'm pretty sure I recognise half the stories." Cuddy stood, shaking her head and left to get a drink of water. He watched her move slowly into the kitchen. "Do you want my cane?"

"No." Cuddy replied slowly, "I'm just a bit fuzzy, I'm generally not a big drinker."

"Yeah, I noticed." House raised his voice ensuring she could hear him from the other room. "By the way, you have no food."

Cuddy returned with a glass of water and sat opposite House on the couch watching him read. "Still living out your delusions there?" She asked, crossing her legs.

"No, I've finished the orgasms." House replied informatively. "I'm studying the '10 all-time best tips for giving good head.' I'm sure you know them off by heart, so I won't bore you with it."

Cuddy looked briefly skyward stifling a laugh. "How long has it been?"

"What, since my last Vicodin?" House asked. "Too long for my mind."

"No." Cuddy replied patiently knowing he would dance around the question until she spelt it out to him. "You know what I mean?"

"No," House's eyes didn't shift from the magazine. "You know what you mean, I'd only be guessing."

"When was the last time you, you know…" Cuddy didn't really want to say it; she also wasn't entirely sure why she was asking the question either.

"The last time I bore witness to someone enacting the contents of this article?" House asked, looking up from the magazine to monitor Cuddy's response.

"Yeah." Cuddy was relieved she didn't have to spell it out.

"Well, there was this great DVD I watched a few nights ago." House began, "I don't really have any first hand knowledge of relative ability here, but just going on how much she could fit down her throat I'd say she was pretty good at her work."

"House!" Cuddy sighed in exasperation. He grinned at her from behind his magazine; if she wanted an answer she was going to have to ask the question in full.

"You can't say it can you." House laughed.

"When was the last time you had sex?" Cuddy held her breath and jumped.

"See, now that wasn't so hard, was it?" House shifted his attention from Cosmo to Cuddy. "Why? You're wondering if I still remember what to do, or are you looking to attribute some of my more exotic behaviour to sexual frustration?"

"Just curious." Cuddy replied slowly. "I haven't seen you with anyone since Stacy, and your leg…" She trailed off.

"Ahh, my leg." House laughed. "It always comes back to that, doesn't it? So what do you want to hear, that I haven't had sex since the infarction? That I'm concerned the whole cripple thing's a turn off, or that the Vicodin's ensured that the only wood I'm packing's my cane?"

"Actually I've always wondered about the Vicodin…" Cuddy cut in.

"Only in higher doses, or if I chase it with some scotch or something." House replied flatly. "You could drop Carmen Electra onto my lap and still get nothing. Aside from that, everything still works."

"Thought so." Cuddy was satisfied with his response. "So have you, since Stacy?"

"No. After the surgery, she tried to a few times before we ended it…" House trailed off. "You know, it just got too hard… with the pain and everything. I don't want to talk about it."

Cuddy sat silently, sorry she'd asked. She knew how hard it had been for him, she was there, and saw everything. House had been through hell, and she'd merely served to remind him. The onus was on her to lighten the mood.

"You know, I've heard that number six is particularly effective." Cuddy gestured toward the magazine.

"Really?" House was relieved, the worst was over and he returned to the magazine. "Changing the temperature of your mouth. I can see how that could be fun. But then let's face it, I'm in the middle of a fairly significant drought, someone brushing against me in line at the supermarket is erotic from where I'm sitting."

"Oh god." Cuddy shrank at how wrong his final sentence sounded, remembering every strange man who had ever brushed against her and automatically reclassifying it as some manner of demented frottage. House watched the somewhat horrified expression that twisted Cuddy's face and laughed.

"What about tip number 10?" House asked nonchalantly.

"What about it?" Cuddy asked, trying to shake the previous image from her mind. "What is it?"

"I thought you knew all of these." House whined in mock disappointment.

"I lied." Cuddy replied flatly. "What's number 10?"

"Anal exploration. You're a doctor, I'd assume that's right up your alley."

"Or yours." Cuddy quipped. House laughed. "I didn't know you were into that sort of thing."

"I never said I was." House replied. "This is your magazine, remember."

"How could I forget." Cuddy smiled. "And I suppose you're going to remind me of its contents for the rest of the evening?"

"Probably."

"Why are you here anyway?" Cuddy asked, she appreciated the company but didn't want him to know that. A sympathetic ear and some light conversation after the week she'd had was what she needed.

"Well, you drank too much too quickly…" House began sarcastically. "And being the gentleman that I am, I brought you home. I thought it'd be rude to leave you to wake up alone on your couch in a state of confusion, so here I am. Going to throw me out now?"

"No, that was uncharacteristically polite of you." Cuddy smiled at him.

"I have a problem with my leg, not my manners."

"I'd like it if you stayed." Cuddy began, knowing she'd regret every word.

"Do I have to put out?" House asked, somewhat bemused. "Had I known your intentions, I would have dressed sexy."

"Really? I like the thought of you in women's underwear." Cuddy paused, smiling. "I'd just like some company. I've had a tough week."

"Well, I wouldn't classify myself as good company." House replied, "but if you feed me, I'm yours. Did you still want me to put out?"

"I'll order you a pizza, okay?" Cuddy paused, considering the last portion of his offer. "You decide whether you're going to put out."

"Okay." House smiled at her. "If I put out, do I get to wear your underwear?"

"What do you want on your pizza?" Cuddy ignored his last remark.

"Plenty of meat." House replied, dry swallowing a Vicodin and returning to the delights of Cosmo. He thoroughly understood why Cuddy read it; it was hilarious, perhaps a little bit juvenile, definitely unintelligent but utterly hilarious nonetheless.

"Another coffee?" Cuddy asked, hand hovering above his empty cup.

"Only if you're having one." House opted for more sarcasm. "Don't put yourself out." Cuddy grabbed his cup and the apple core next to it and strode off into the kitchen. She paused to gaze at the tall, dishevelled man seated in her lounge. Yeah, he was worth $100 000 000, every cent of it of not more, she'd never tell him though. She glanced at the coffee machine, which House had left on, grabbed her phone and set about ordering a pizza. She returned to the lounge a few minutes later with coffee for two. She placed one cup down in front of House and resumed her position opposite him. They always seemed to find themselves in opposing positions, something that suddenly seemed peculiar to Cuddy.

"What are you reading now?" Cuddy asked, folding her legs up underneath her, cradling a cup of tea.

"Well I've just read about the best bras for all of my favourite summer outfits, informative, great pictures." House offered informatively. "Now I'm reading about real women sharing their first lesbian experiences."

"I ignored that bit." Cuddy replied. Sipping her coffee.

"I can understand why." House offered, "I think all of your bras look great with your outfits."

"The lesbian bit." Cuddy corrected. "And you spend way to much time thinking about my breasts."

"Well, I could start thinking about you with another woman if you like." House offered. "The only thing I'd like more than looking at your fun bags would be looking at another woman looking at them."

Cuddy sighed, wishing that he would drop the sarcasm and rhetoric for long enough to have an adult conversation. She knew him well enough to know that he was capable of it, on the proviso she didn't give him reason to revert back to it. However with a copy of Cosmo spread in front of his eyes, Cuddy knew the chance of that happening was fairly remote for the time being. So she sat and watched him, eyes darting across the page and the expressions that swept over his face as he read.

"Oh now that's hot." House looked up at Cuddy. "Is this publication seriously intended for women?"

"Lesbians are women too." Cuddy responded with mock seriousness.

"I know that, but real lesbians aren't like porn lesbians." House began. "Real lesbians are fat, drive pick up trucks, wear men's clothing and grunt."

"You don't believe that lipstick lesbians exist?" Cuddy asked, intrigued, although he was probably only really evoking the stereotype in the hope of agitating her enough to reveal her own torrid lesbian past.

"Only in porn films and heaven." House replied with a smile.

"You think heaven is full of lesbians?" Cuddy asked incredulously.

"Mine is." House smiled, leaning forward to sip is coffee. "So were you going to tell me about your sordid lesbian past? That one night in college where your room mate looked better than your boyfriend, and you just needed to feel the sympathetic touch of another woman?"

Cuddy desperately sought an escape and it came quite conveniently via a knock at her front door. Pizza.

"Oh you're lucky." House snarled at Cuddy as she grabbed her purse from the coffee table and went to answer the door. She returned to find House sitting on the couch and she sat down next to him, placing the pizza box onto the coffee table.

"Has it occurred to you that we spend far too much time sitting opposite each other?" House asked, flipping open the pizza box and quickly surveying it before taking the largest slice. Cuddy retreated to the opposite corner of the couch, tucked her legs underneath her and watched him eat. House was starving; meat lover's pizza with extra barbeque sauce was certainly filling the churning void in his stomach. "Are you going to have some?" House span the pizza box in Cuddy's direction.

"No thanks." Cuddy replied.

"It's good." House offered. "One slice won't hurt."

"Do you like how my butt looks in this skirt?" Cuddy asked, swirling the last of her coffee around her cup.

"Yeah." House licked his fingers. "I had a bit of a feel when I carried you inside. Nice."

"Well it's not going to stay like that if I eat pizza." Cuddy watched House as he grabbed his second slice.

"Come on, you'd work off the calories." House smiled. "Although you did have quite a bit to drink earlier, alcohol's full of calories. Better leave the pizza to me." Cuddy smiled watching him tuck into the pizza. "So, tell me about your sordid college experimental lesbian phase."

"You invented my sordid lesbian past, you tell me about it." Cuddy finished her coffee and placed the empty cup on the table.

"Well," House sunk back into his corner of Cuddy's couch, lifting his bung leg up onto the couch filling the space between them, his foot hanging over the edge inches from her. "You had a massive fight with your perfect med student cum-jock boyfriend just before finals. It's raining, you're in your room crying, your blonde cheer-leader room mate hears you over the rain and joins you in bed to offer the sort of comfort that only a 'good friend' is really capable of, with a massive dildo."

"Frankly I thought it'd be better than that." Cuddy laughed at him. House went for slice number three. "That's not very romantic."

"I'm not very romantic." House grinned. "I just wanted to get to the hard-core dildo action."

"You can't comfort someone with a dildo." Cuddy replied in her most intelligent Dean of Medicine voice.

"Is that why I'm here?" House asked innocently.

"Don't flatter yourself." Cuddy replied. She lent over and picked a piece of peperoni of House's slice of pizza.

"Come on, have a bite of my piece." House extended his arm in her direction. "That way you're not committing to a full slice." Cuddy ate the piece of peperoni, and considered his offer. She was concerned that she wouldn't stop at one bite.

"Your shoe's on my couch." Cuddy looked at House's foot, inches from her knee.

"You take it off." House said between mouthfuls of pizza. "My hands are greasy."

"You're hopeless." Cuddy shook her head as she untied his shoe, "Only you could get away with wearing these to work anyhow." She dropped House's shoe to the floor.

"You wanna take the other one off for me?" House lifted his good leg up onto the couch in front of her. Cuddy sighed and complied. House reached for his fourth slice. "You've got to stop me soon, I'll get fat." Cuddy pushed House's good leg off the couch and slid over toward him, sitting between his knees.

"Give me a bite." Cuddy waited. House held the pizza equidistant between them. Cuddy lent toward it and opened her mouth.

"Ahh," House shifted the pizza away from her at the last minute laughing. Cuddy grabbed his arm and held it while she took a bite. "See, I told you it was good." House laughed, taking another bite himself. Cuddy leant down and wiped her the grease from around her mouth onto House's shirt. "Hey." House looked at her somewhat agitated. "I didn't want to have to wash this shirt yet."

"Who cares." Came Cuddy's reply. "You wanted pizza, I don't like grease." Cuddy ran her fingertips along House's damaged thigh, which lay between her and the back of the couch. He flinched involuntarily, watching her carefully. House finished his slice of pizza, then wiped his hands on his shirt. Cuddy watched him spread grease across his blue shirt.

"Hey, if I'm going to wash it, I may as well make it worth the effort." House leant forward and shook off his jacket, throwing it over the coffee table and at the other chair. Cuddy continued to trail her fingers along his thigh, he watched her intently. He figured it was like masturbating in the dark with a bottle of lube and Tabasco sauce in front of him, exciting but potentially very painful. In an anatomical sense, Cuddy knew his leg almost as well as he did, leaving House sitting in the corridor of uncertainty, was she going to hurt him? Given her mood earlier in the evening and subsequent brief drinking binge, nothing would really surprise him; anyway he probably deserved it.

Cuddy watched his face as he played out a myriad of possible scenarios in his head, she didn't really know what she was doing. She knew that she'd prevented House going for a fifth slice of pizza. She knew that she desperately wished she could do something to ease the constant pain he lived with. She didn't notice her fingers slowly creeping higher as she caressed his thigh. House, certainly did, and sank into the couch, eyes closed, head tilted skyward enjoying the feeling of a hand other than his own on is body. Cuddy's hand skated absently up the inside of his thigh, House sighed and folded his hands across his chest, eyes closed, just feeling. Cuddy's fingers reached point where jean leg blended into crotch and slowly dragged a finger over a portion of House's anatomy that he had sworn earlier functioned perfectly. House felt his blood pressure rise, tension building in his groin. Cuddy thoughtfully regarded the growing bulge in House's jeans.

"Six years, hey?" She trailed her fingers lightly over his cock, now painfully hard and bent at an excruciating angle in his jeans.

"Yeah." House groaned, remaining as composed as possible. He desperately needed to adjust himself, Cuddy's teasing fingers bringing an exquisite mixture of pleasure and discomfort in equal measures.

"Looking to break that drought any time soon?" Cuddy asked nonchalantly tracing the outline of his cock with a single finger.

"I'm waiting for my wedding day." House groaned. It took a particular type of man to remain sarcastic in such a compromising position. "I'm a virgin you know."

"Really?" Cuddy gripped him firmly. House's breath caught in his throat. It had been far too long.

"No, never." House growled, grabbing her roughly and pulling her into him. "I've spent the last six years watching bad porn and jerking off on my couch. I'd fuck a grapefruit if I thought it'd give me a cuddle afterward." House hissed biting her earlobe before dragging his chin down the side of her neck, kissing and nibbling as he went his stubble leaving her skin raw and angry in his wake. He planted a single kiss on top of her carotid artery, feeling it pulse beneath his lips before holding her chin between his thumb and finger. "You realise if I kiss you, we can't go back?"

"Or what?" Cuddy taunted him. "You're not having an attack of conscience are you?"

"No, if you stop half way through, I'll turn into a pumpkin." House answered earnestly.

"What?" Cuddy looked at him incredulously.

"Like Cinderella." House clarified.

"Shut up House." Cuddy leant in and gently kissed the ridiculous man who lay sprawled on her couch. House immediately sat up to meet her lips, taking charge.

He opened his mouth marginally, determined to savour every second, who knew when the next time would be. Their lips parted briefly, before he gently bit her bottom lip, dragging her mouth back to his lips meeting again in a deeper, open-mouthed union.

She kissed him, savouring his hot nasty mouth, lips slick with pizza grease, enjoying the juxtaposition of how a tongue responsible for so many stinging insults and unwanted truths could be so pleasant in an entirely different context. Their lips parted and met again, House tightened his grip on her hips, wanting to pull her onto him. Cuddy realised she was still kneeling on the couch between his thighs, she stood, briefly breaking contact with his lips, House swung his other leg onto the couch and Cuddy carefully straddled him, wary of ending festivities early by way of a little too much pressure on his thigh. Their lips met again, with Cuddy slowly grinding against the heat in his pants, House began blindly clawing at her jacket, pushing it roughly down off her shoulders and to the floor. He broke with her lips and buried his face against her shoulder, grabbing handfuls of her shirt as he kissed his way down the side of her neck, he reached the point at which neck meets shoulder near the collar of her shirt and realised he needed to remove the offending article of clothing. He released the fistfuls of shirt he had taken moments before and slowly ran his hands over her to the buttons at the front of her shirt. It wasn't as if she had that many of them done up, but he savoured opening every one of them, kissing the freshly exposed skin as he went. Cuddy's hands tangled through his hair, pressing his face into her chest.

"Oh this is great!" House exclaimed, pushing Cuddy's shirt open. She loosened her grip on his skull so he could fully remove her shirt. House's hands immediately gravitated to Cuddy's rib cage, just below her bra, a ridiculous Moulin Rouge inspired red and black lace piece, his thumbs gently tracing circles around and over the sheer fabric that covered her nipples. House pulled her toward him and bit her left nipple through the fabric of her bra, his hands snaking around behind her to unhook her bra. House dragged his chin along the strip of skin directly beneath her bra before grabbing the middle of the garment between his teeth and pulling it forward. Cuddy shrugged her bra off and laughed at House as he stared up at her, lacy undergarments clasped between his teeth. He raised an eyebrow at her, then opened his mouth, the bra fell onto his stomach, Cuddy grabbed it and threw is elsewhere. "Can I just say," House lightly ran his knuckles along the outside curve of Cuddy's breasts. "You've got the best tit's I've ever seen on a Dean of Medicine."

"House, I'm the only female Dean of Medicine in the country." Cuddy replied, hoping he'd use his mouth for something other than spouting hot air.

"I know that." House said, taking a nipple in his mouth. Cuddy moaned, fingers snaking across the back of his skull, holding him there against her chest. House flicked his tongue against the firm nub of flesh before sucking it back into his mouth again. This was too good. The near-constant pain in his leg couldn't have been further from his mind as he lavished attention on Cuddy's other nipple. House groaned into Cuddy's chest, the vibration reverberating throughout her body, House couldn't resist any longer and bit down on one wonderfully plump nipple, tightening his grip on her as she cried out, digging her fingers into his scalp. His mouth returned to hers and they kissed again; House's hands gripping her firmly, controlling every movement as she continued to grind into him. Painfully hard and still trapped at an uncomfortable angle in his jeans, House dropped one hand from Cuddy's hip to his jeans desperate to free himself as they continued to kiss. As he fumbled with his belt buckle he felt Cuddy's hands push his away. Cuddy leant onto him, pushing him back into the couch, her lips left his and she began to trace a path down his neck, hands well ahead of her mouth unbuttoning his shirt before skating up under his t-shirt. House sat up enough for her to push his shirt off him and pull his t-shirt over his head, closing his eyes as Cuddy's lips met one of his nipples. Enjoying the sensation of her hot lips on his skin, House didn't notice that Cuddy was sitting between his thighs until his eyes snapped open at the sound of his belt buckle being undone. Cuddy took her time, teasing him as she undid his jeans. First the belt was out of the way, then she took the opportunity to run her fingers along the skin hidden under the waistband of his jeans, relishing the impatient groans coming from the man beneath her. Slowly she undid the button at the top of his jeans, then the zip, watching his cock spring out under her nose.

"Oh thank Christ!" House breathed as the pressure on his dick was finally released. He lifted his hips and Cuddy stood, pulling his jeans and boxers from him, her eyes widening at the sight of his erect penis lying flush against his stomach. "See," House smiled suggestively, eyes dark with lust. "I knew you were hot for my body." Back between his thighs in an instant Cuddy began to kiss the inside of his damaged thigh, biting gently on the area where the tendon affixed his abductor muscle to his pelvis. House exhaled with a hiss as he felt her breath on his balls. "Let's see how much of that article you read." House growled at the woman between his legs.

"You're brave." Cuddy considered biting him again, somewhere more painful. She took his left testicle into her mouth, before repeating the procedure on the right.

"Oh man you're good." House groaned as Cuddy continued her journey north, planting a long kiss at the base of his cock before running her tongue up his full length. She licked him again before taking his head into her mouth, swirling her tongue around him exquisitely. House gripped the couch, he was beginning to get the distinct impression that this was all going to be over very quickly if Cuddy kept on going. He shifted a hand to the back of her head and desperately tried to hold on as Cuddy's mouth and hands enveloped him. She worked him slowly, thinking along much the same lines as he was, given how long it had been for him, it could all be over very quickly, all she could do was hope that the Vicodin served to dull the sensation just enough to keep him going a little longer. The part of Cuddy that enjoyed a challenge desperately wanted to see how much of him she could take, but she rationalised that simply the sight of him buried deep in her throat would probably send him over the edge.

Cuddy felt House's fingers graze her cheek, attempting to tilt her head enough so their eyes met, she knew he couldn't last much longer, so after pausing to blow cold air onto his throbbing member she returned to her previous position, straddling him. House's hands slid immediately slid under her skirt, he silently cursed Cuddy for wearing pantyhose, as if she was reading his mind, Cuddy slowly stood, House shifted forward to the edge of the couch, looking up at her. He slowly slid his hands up her thighs until he found the top of her pantyhose, pulling them and her very sensible panties down simultaneously. He ran his hands back down her thighs to her knees, then up the outside of her skirt, feeling for, locating then undoing the zip at the back before pushing it to the floor along with the rest of her clothing. Cuddy ostensibly stepped out of it. House paused for a moment to admire Cuddy's firm, sensible body, particularly her auspicious lack of pubic hair before grabbing her around the waist and throwing her down onto the couch next to him. House shifted toward her, forcing her backwards and underneath him. It had been some months since Cuddy had last felt the weight of a man on top of her, and House's flesh pressed against hers seemed to be exactly what she needed. House kissed her, long, deep, languid kisses as he struggled to slow the pace they had set earlier, a huge part of him wanted to slam into her and end it all at that moment, but he felt obliged to repay the favour. Cuddy was enjoying the slower pace, the intensity of his kisses, she clawed his back, moaning into his mouth. House shifted from her mouth down her neck to her nipples.

"Did I tell you that I was a lesbian in college?" House asked, from between Cuddy's breasts.

"Uh, no." Cuddy willed him to shut up and use his tongue in a more constructive manner. Cuddy stared at the ceiling with a combination of arousal and irritation as he lazily played with her tits.

"Yeah," House continued. Planting a few casual kisses down her stomach, intentionally scraping the pale skin with his stubble simply to watch it change colour beneath him. For Cuddy it merely served to heighten the sensory experience as he made his way south. "I was a massive lesbian in college. This however…" House trailed his fingers very lightly over Cuddy's conspicuously bald lips; she moaned trembling in anticipation. "I've only ever seen this in porn movies. So soft…" House knelt on his good leg between her thighs, dragging her roughly toward his mouth. He slowly spread her lips with his tongue, before nibbling on them one at a time. Cuddy moaned and attempted to grind against his face, it was all taking too long. House paused and briefly blew cold air against the firm nub of flesh at the apex of Cuddy's thighs, feeling her shudder he knew that it had the desired effect. He ran his tongue up the full length of her lips again before briefly flicking his tongue over her clit. Cuddy moaned silently begging for release, she gripped the back of his head. House had no idea how long he could kneel for, his leg was already beginning to protest, but he was determined to finish her off, he owed her that much. He flicked his tongue across her clit again, then sucked it into his mouth, caressing with his tongue as he went. He felt Cuddy stiffen beneath him and released her momentarily, returning to lazily flicking her with his tongue. "Which side?" He breathed between licks.

"Right." Cuddy groaned at him, nails digging into the couch as House focused his assault on the right side of her clit. House locked his arms around her upper thighs as she began to buck against his face, slipping two fingers inside her purely to see what sort or response he'd receive. Fingers making slow, firm circles inside her House moved in for the kill, alternately sucking and flicking as Cuddy neared the edge. Cuddy's hands balled into fists, she thumped the couch as House worked, she groaned, then it hit her House kept going and hung on for dear life.

"Oh god!" Cuddy screamed thumping the couch, House felt her tighten around his fingers as her body quaked against his face, he persisted as Cuddy's orgasm struck, wave after wave. "Ahhh!" Cuddy screamed as House thrust his fingers in and out of her, still firmly latched onto her clit. "Fuck you House!" She came again. Kicking him away at the end when she could take no more.

"Wow." House sat on the floor stunned, as Cuddy lay exhausted on the couch. "I guess you needed that." He watched the tension slowly leaving her body. "And that's a definite yes." House's leg screamed at him, he fumbled around on the floor for his jacket in search of Vicodin, he found it and quickly downed one. The stars slowly began to fade from Cuddy's eyes.

"Your leg." She breathed, slowly sitting up.

"Don't stand." House warned.

"No, I'm right." Cuddy pushed forward to the edge of the couch.

"Trust me, Cuddy." House was strangely serious. "I'm a lesbian. I know these things." Disregarding his advice, Cuddy stood, wobbled then fell to the floor on top of him.

"Damn." Cuddy rested her forehead on his chest. "You were right. You're so much better than a dildo."

"Given your sordid college lesbian past, how did that rate?" House trailed his fingertips up and down her back.

"You're a great lesbian." Cuddy assured him.

"I want a kiss." House pouted. Cuddy obliged, tasting herself on his lips. She slid her legs around him, feeling him still hard beneath her. She gently ground against him, hot and wet against his cock.

"God, this must be killing you." Cuddy continued to move her hips, sitting astride him. House's hands shifted to grip her hips, his left leg bent behind her as they occupied the space between the coffee table and the couch.

"Is it going to take much to push you over the edge again?" House breathed, moving with her.

"No." Cuddy laughed. She reached down between her thighs, placing the very tip of his head at her lips, teasing him. House couldn't wait any longer and pushed up into her hard. Cuddy gasped, she was more than ready for him, but she couldn't remember the last time she was with someone who even came close to House in terms of sheer size. Her muscles stretched to accommodate him as she slowly began to ride him. House trailed his hands up her stomach to briefly cup her breasts as he got used to her rhythm. He slid his hands down to grip her hips as he began to thrust back up at her, matching her movements. He needed his leg for this and through sheer desperation he used it, his face a displaying the mixture of excruciating pain and exquisite pleasure he felt as he pushed into Cuddy. She leant back changing the angle, bracing herself against House's thighs.

"Ahh fuck!" House screamed and banged into her harder, desperate to finish before his leg slowly killed him. House tightened his grip on her hips and fucked her hard, groaning as pain and pleasure became indistinguishable. Cuddy was taking an absolute beating, he felt her tighten around him, he kept pushing. She came, fingers digging into his thighs as she leant back, thankfully she took House over the edge with her. House screamed and cursed, his fingers dug into Cuddy who wasn't quiet either. As she slowly came back to earth she realised where her hands were.

"Shit." Cuddy hissed, climbing off him "Your leg." House lay staring at the ceiling, chest heaving, sweat beading on his forehead. Suddenly he felt cold; pain ripped through his thigh burning a path from his groin to his toes. "Vicodin?"

House gestured toward his jacket. Cuddy patted the material until she found the familiar shape of the pill bottle. She tapped two of the pills out into her hand. House propped himself weakly up on one elbow and opened his mouth. Cuddy slid the two pills between his lips and he slung his head back and swallowed desperately before slumping back onto the floor. Cuddy stroked his chest, damp with sweat and unnervingly cold, she did what any doctor would, took his pulse. His heart rate was still up, understandable, but cold, almost feverish with pain and lying hopelessly on her lounge room floor, her heart broke for him. She knew she couldn't move him, so she quickly headed to her bedroom, balled up her bedspread and returned. She pushed the coffee table away and threw the bedspread over House before running back to grab some pillows. He remained where she had left him, staring at the ceiling, glassy-eyed; she knelt by his head, lifting it briefly to slide a pillow underneath. There was no post-coital bliss, only stark reality. She had no opportunity to bask in the glow, only watch him, silent with pain and know what he had done for her. She curled up next to him, offering all she could, warmth, comfort. House was silent for the second time in 24 hours as he loosely held Cuddy to his chest. Roles had reversed in the most dramatic and perverse manner. House closed his eyes; breathing still laboured and wished the pain would go away. Cuddy's soothing fingers were a pleasant distraction, but he couldn't remember the last time the pain was this bad. On a very base level, he knew it was worth it.


End file.
